


Sharpen Thy Mind, Fasten Thy Heart

by MistressKat



Category: Lewis (TV)
Genre: Challenge Response, Community: lewis_challenge, Dom/sub, F/M, Femdom, Needle play, Needles, Sado-Masochism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-10
Updated: 2011-09-10
Packaged: 2017-10-23 14:51:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/251545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MistressKat/pseuds/MistressKat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>The break, when it comes, is beautiful.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Sharpen Thy Mind, Fasten Thy Heart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [baskervwatson](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=baskervwatson).



> **Prompt:** This was written for [lewis_challenge](http://lewis-challenge.livejournal.com/) on LJ as a fill for [baskervwatson’s](http://baskervwatson.livejournal.com/) prompt of _“Hathaway/Hobson, Who knew the good doctor had so many toys? Kink!Fic”_ (I was given free reign with the details).
> 
>  **Author note #1:** Sometimes it’s important for a writer to venture outside their comfort zone, which is exactly what I have done here, in a story that includes both a pairing and kink that aren’t personal favourites. I freely admit that I decided to write this at least 90% because I wanted to see if I could, and then, to show that I can. *defiant jaw tilt*
> 
>  **Author note #2:** Beta by the wonderful [planetkiller](http://planetkiller.livejournal.com/) who stepped into the breach like a champ and to whom half of the commas in this fic are owed. Thank you also to [pushkin666](http://archiveofourown.org/users/pushkin666/) for all the encouraging noises she made during the writing.

 

It’s late at night when the knock finally comes, quiet and hesitant. She might have missed it if she hadn’t been listening out for it, waiting. She casts a one last look around her office before calling out a brusque “Come in.”  
   
“Doctor,” Hathaway greets her, shutting the door behind him.  
   
Laura takes in the tense set of his shoulders and the way he’s looking just to the side of her face, not meeting her eyes. Just like she thought; he needs this badly but is not prepared to admit yet that he wants it too.  
   
“Sergeant,” she acknowledges him, keeping her voice impersonal because it’s what he needs right now. “It’s been three months since our last session.”  
   
She gets up and walks across over to him, the sharp click of her heels loud in the room.  
   
Laura grips his jaw tightly, nails digging into the smoothly shaved skin. “That will not do, Sergeant,” she says, forcing him to face her, and, ultimately, himself. “I will have to be very... _thorough_ , to make up for the missed appointments.”  
   
This close it’s easy to see the way James’ pupils widen, his cheeks flushing as the veins expand, blood rushing to the surface. Laura reads the physical effects of arousal easily, it’s James’ mind that’s more difficult to interpret, that’s taken Laura longer to get right.  
   
“Do you understand, Sergeant?” she asks.  
   
James nods, licking his lips nervously.  
   
Laura pulls her hand back and then, before either of them have a chance to think about it, she slaps him hard across the face. “Do. You. _Understand?_ ”  
   
“Yes, Doctor,” James swallows. There’s a red mark on his cheek that feels hot to the touch when Laura lets her fingertips ghost over it.  
   
James’ gaze flicks to the corner of the room, toward the privacy curtains and Laura’s hand drops to his throat, pressing down on his Adam’s apple until his attention snaps back to her.  
   
“No, I don’t think so. You will get undressed right here,” she indicates the middle of the floor, “where I can observe.”  
   
The look on his face is a mixture of apprehension and helpless desire, and it makes Laura’s own pulse speed up. She pushes him further into the room and locks the door with a flick of her wrist. The blinds are drawn and it’s just the two of them left in the building. The dead, lying silent and cold in the basement, won’t care.  
   
“ _Now_ , Sergeant Hathaway. I don’t have all night.”  
   
He does as he’s told, removing his clothes one by one, methodically, clinging to his sense of normalcy with every careful movement. She won’t make him look at her right now, it’s enough that he knows she’s watching, seeing every inch of skin and muscle, every scar and imperfection.  
   
She leaves him standing there, naked and vulnerable, while she prepares the examination table. It’s not exactly regulation for a pathologist to have one of those in her office but whenever people ask she just says it doesn’t feel like a doctor’s office without one. It’s not a lie, but neither is it the whole truth. The fact that Laura sees other ‘patients’ in addition to the unfortunate victims resting in the morgue is nobody’s business but hers.  
   
She pulls out a fresh paper sheet over the table, lowering it to the height that she’s comfortable working at. From a drawer she pulls out an unopened box of 20-gauge hypodermic needles; at the larger end normally used for this kind of play, but neither she nor James are beginners and Laura had meant it when she’d said she’d need to be thorough. Thicker needles mean more pain and pain is what James needs tonight, otherwise he wouldn’t be here.  
   
She sets out the rest of the things (antiseptic wipes and a sharps container for disposing the needles), before crossing over to wash her hands. She takes her time with it, using antibacterial soap and scrubbing like she’s preparing for a surgery. That level of hygiene is not necessary but it’s all part of the ritual, of heightening the anticipation. Once she’s done, Laura pulls on a pair of latex gloves, tugging the sleeves of her white jacket inside. It won’t do for them to catch on anything later.  
   
When she turns around James is exactly where she left him, standing ramrod straight, his eyes on the back wall. Laura frowns. He’s withdrawing and that will not do.  
   
“Look at me,” she orders and after three long seconds he does.  
   
And then she waits. She doesn’t say or do anything, doesn’t touch him or tell him what to do, she just watches and waits.  
   
It takes five minutes for James to start shaking. It’s not from the cold and Laura still does nothing, simply holds his gaze. He’s breathing fast and deep but not in any danger of hyperventilating, not yet, so for now Laura gives him a chance to get himself under control before interfering.  
   
The break, when it comes, is beautiful. James is trembling constantly now, fine tremors running up and down his body until he’s shivering like the last leaf of autumn. Finally, he falls to the floor with a sob that sounds like it’s been torn out of him by force.  
   
Laura feels the tension drain out her own shoulders; the first step is always the hardest and if James doesn’t give in at his own free will, Laura can’t make him. _Won’t_ make him. Because that’s not what this is about.  
   
She walks over to where James is kneeling, his long legs folded under him, arms curled protectively around his middle. Even like this he’s tall enough that Laura doesn’t have to crouch at all to touch his face. His breaths are slow and even, and he leans into her hand, mouth grazing her wrist.  
   
It’s been a bad few weeks; a case with a child victim, no witnesses, no forensic evidence. It’s what they called an unsolvable case, nothing to do be done except fill the forms and wait for a miracle. A murder inquiry is never fully closed until the perpetrator is caught, but unless something new came to light, this one would become inactive soon. Investigative resources were limited, and Innocent was, understandably, reluctant to pour any more into this one since results were unlikely.  
   
James though... James was not taking it so well. Neither was Robbie, nor herself or even Innocent, none of them liked leaving things unfinished or grieving parents without an answer, but they all had more experience of having to do just that on occasion.  
   
Laura tips James’ head up, stroking his face with her gloved hand. Sometimes she wonders if he hadn’t been better off in the ministry after all, delivering the Good News instead of the bad.    
   
“Safeword?” Laura asks, not because she doesn’t remember but because she wants to make sure James does and that he can and should use it if necessary.  
   
“Tennyson.” There’s something of the familiar dry humour lurking at the twist of his lips, and Laura smiles in response, beckoning him up and onto the examination table.  
   
He follows instructions well, always has, even the first time they did this. Laura thinks it’s a big part of _why_ , of what makes this a place of safety for James. Obedience leaves no room for mistakes.  
   
He lies down on his back, eyes at half-mast as Laura straps him down; ankles, wrists, and a long mid-torso strap crossing over his ribcage. He looks gorgeous like this, miles of pale skin lightly dusted with hair so blond she has to run the flat of her hand along it to make sure it’s there.  
   
He twitches slightly, ticklish, and Laura smacks him lightly on the hip as a reminder to stay still. James takes a long shuddering breath, holds it, and then lets it out. He nods and when Laura holds out the first needle, letting him see the length and size of it, he nods again, his mouth open and eager.  
   
With someone else, Laura would consider using the needles as a gag of sorts – two long ones through the lips in a cross-stitch pattern does wonders for keeping a person quiet – but James doesn’t need to be hushed or soothed, he needs the freedom to let go.   
   
Laura opens the individually packed antiseptic wipes one by one and cleans James up, paying particular attention to the areas she plans on piercing. She discards the wipes, using one final one to rub over her gloved fingers.  
   
The room is silent except for the rustle of paper and foil as Laura breaks the seal on the first needle, carefully holding it by the plastic fitting and removing the cap from the business end. She glances down at James and finds him watching back avidly. She lets her gaze travel down his body, considering. He’s not hard yet, though that will change. Then again, this isn’t about sex, not really.  
   
Laura starts at the inside of his upper arms, gripping a fold of flesh between her thumb and forefinger and swiftly pushes the needle in and through, the bevelled tip angled so that it will pierce the skin instead of sliding along it.  
   
James inhales sharply at the sensation but doesn’t move otherwise. Laura reaches for the second needle, then the third, placing them next to one another on his arm before doing the same on the other side. There’s a gap between the wall and the examination table, allowing her 360 degree access to anyone lying on it. She works quickly, no hesitation, placing needles where the flesh is soft and yielding, staying clear of areas where bone or veins push too close to the skin or that have too many nerve-endings to make them safe for this kind of play.  
   
Before long, the needles start forming patterns over James’ body, scattered along his arms, chest and thighs in graceful spirals or orderly rows and circles. Here and there drops of blood are welling to the surface, running down his skin in small rivulets. James is making noises constantly now; little gasps and whines, caught somewhere between pleasure and pain as the flashes of sensation spark through him, over and over.  
   
Laura feels her focus narrow like the point of the needle in her hand. She’s sure they are breathing in sync, the sweat beading on his face matched by the cool feeling of calm, of control, that steadies her, keeps her grounded in the moment like nothing else.  
   
James is hard, his cock straining up over his stomach, and Laura takes a moment to appreciate the view. He is striking like this, so undeniably alive and present. He’s not thinking, not doubting himself or second-guessing his decisions, because here, right now, he has no decisions to make, no responsibilities. There is nothing but sensation, short spikes of pain as the needles go in, the faint sting that remains as they settle, and the rush of endorphins, ebbing and flowing at Laura’s command, but never stopping.  
   
Laura reaches over and pinches his nipple, twisting hard enough to make him arch off the table as far as the restraints allow him. “Sergeant,” she says. “Pay attention.”  
   
His half-lidded eyes open slowly, pupils blown wide, and Laura notes with satisfaction the thin rings of pale blue, visible beyond them. “Nipples too?” she asks.  
   
James nods, licking his lips, and the desire to kiss him hits her square in the chest; a hot flood of want that makes her mouth water and her cunt throb. But they don’t do that, not here, not now. It’s too personal. It’s why she calls him ‘James’ only inside her head when they play and why she’s ‘Doctor’ even though he’s not here because of her profession, but because she’s someone he knows, someone he can trust. It’s a delicate balance of intimacy and compartmentalisation, but more than that, it’s what James is willing to give so it’s what Laura will take, no more.  
   
At least, not tonight.  
   
“And here?” she asks, letting her hand trail lower, skimming his cock and cupping his balls, rolling them in her palm while he moans and pants. “You think I should check your reactions here as well?”  
   
“Please,” he begs. “Please, please, please.” The way he’s shifting on the table is tugging at the needles, and the pain must be intense.  
   
 “Only if you are sure you can remain still,” she tells him. “Do you think you can do that, Sergeant?” She squeezes tightly as she asks and watches him struggle not to pull away, not to close his legs.  
   
“Yes, Doctor,” he groans, face flushed, the redness spreading down his chest and all the way to his navel.  
   
“Good.” Laura lets go and moves back up to the head of the table. “I was hoping you’d say that.” She goes to the drawer and picks up a packet of bigger gauge needles; larger the gauge, smaller the needle, and she needs something a bit finer for this than the ones she’s been using until now.  
   
She selects one from the box, snapping it free from its covering and uncapping the end. With her other hand, Laura teases his right nipple until it’s firm under her fingers and standing to attention.   
   
“Deep breath, and hold it” she tells James, who obeys instantly. She pulls the nipple taut and positions the needle. “Let go.” She drives the needle through on the exhale, applying steady pressure as the tissue here is more dense than skin.   
   
The sound that escapes James’ mouth is high and pure. It winds around her like copper wire, and she can feel her own nipples harden under layers of clothing. She knows she’s smiling, knows it unnerves James, the slight edge of fear only making everything better, sharper.  
   
Laura doesn’t give him time to recover. “Again,” she says, and James takes a huge gulping breath, sweat running freely down his face now. She prepares another needle and doesn’t pause to check whether James is ready or not, just pushes it in.  
   
He _keens_ , spine bowing backwards in a long sinuous curve, like the blade end of a scalpel. She has to lean on the table, both hands braced, knows she’s making a noise too; a choked off groan of her own that’s nevertheless buried under the sound of James’ cry.  
   
“Well done,” she says and has to clear her throat, her voice coming out hoarse and low. “Good boy.”  
   
His eyelashes are wet, and she reaches out and wipes off the tears gently. “You are such a good boy. I’m so proud of you.”  
   
She takes a moment to calm herself, resting a hand on James’ sternum and waiting for him to hit the upward curve of the endorphin high, before moving to the final stage of tonight’s session.  
   
Laura stretches James cock over his lower belly to get full access to its underside and the scrotum. He’s not fully erect anymore, which makes this easier.  “Do you want to use your safeword, Sergeant?” she asks.  
   
“No.” He sounds more than a little spaced out, but he answered without prompting so Laura has to trust him to be sure.  
   
She pulls out a handful of the smaller needles and sets them the table, still in their packaging. “Ready,” she says and it’s a statement, not a question.  
   
Laura snaps the first needle free of its seal and without a further warning threads it through James’ foreskin. A small drop of blood appears, and she watches it swell and then roll down slowly.  
   
She glances up at James’ face to find him staring straight ahead, unseeing, mouth lax and open.  
   
Good. Laura nods to herself and focuses back to the task at hand. She places three more needles through the loose skin on the underside of James’ cock in a horizontal column, taking care to avoid the veins. She continues down along the seam of his scrotum, making sure to get just the skin, not going anywhere deep enough to catch his testicles.  
   
The whole thing can’t take more than a couple of minutes, but it seems like hours. The stillness is absolute, both in the room with James lying on the table unmoving, and inside her own mind where everything feels smooth and bright, like the surface of a lake on a sunny windless day.  
   
She lays two fingers on his wrist, checking his pulse, which is slow and steady. Her movements are unhurried, almost dream-like, as she reaches out to gently tap the needle on one of his nipples.  
   
The reaction is instantaneous. James groans; a wrecked, hitching sound that tugs at something sharp and tight inside her and makes her place a hand over his throat just so she can feel the vibrations. Laura plays the needles like an instrument, plugging here and there, running her fingers over them in complex patterns that cause a cascade of pleads fall from James’ lips.  
   
She doesn’t stop until James is quiet again, and she is wet inside her unadorned cotton panties, her cunt pulsing in time to her heart, or maybe his.  
   
A long silent minute goes by. Finally, Laura shakes her head, rolling her shoulders. It’s time to finish this.  
   
She grabs more antiseptic wipes and starts pulling out the needles, in the same order as she put them in so that the ones that have been in the longest are the first to come out. There is more blood now, some of the pin pricks bleeding freely once the needle is removed, but that’s to be expected.  
   
Laura works methodically, disinfecting the skin as she goes along and dropping the used needles into the sharps container to be disposed safely. James lies still for the most part even though the needles hurt almost as much coming out as going in. He only flinches a little when Laura pulls out the ones in his nipples, a barely audible gasp escaping his mouth, but even that sounds more like pleasure than pain.  
   
Laura smiles and removes the last of the needles from James’ balls and cock, which swells with interest once more under her hand. She’s tempted to do something about that, _and_ the heat curling low in her own belly, she’s not going to deny that.  
   
She pushes the thought aside – for now – and goes to the sink instead, filling a plastic cup with water. By the time she’s back by James’ side, he’s already trying to push himself off the table.  
   
“Easy, _easy_.” Laura grips him by the elbow, pulling and shoving gently until he’s mostly sitting up, half slumped against her. He’s so _malleable_ like this, so willing to just be positioned, a little half-smile playing on his lips. Laura puts the cup to his mouth and encourages him to finish it all, murmuring a quiet litany of _‘that’s it, good boy, drink up.’_  
   
They stay like that for a long while until James finally lifts his head from her shoulder. His eyes are clear and unashamed, and Laura thinks it’s time for her to let him go.  
   
Or maybe, to let him in.  
 **  
**

**Author's Note:**

>  **End note:** I was in two minds whether to include sex in this fic or not, but in the end decided against it. I hope you’re not too disappointed. Not all bdsm play involves sex, at least not in its narrow definition, and I wanted the needle play to be the focus here. Writing the sex scene would have also added easily another 1,000 words to a fic that already much longer than I anticipated and I really wanted to get another prompt filled for the [lewis_challenge](http://lewis-challenge.livejournal.com/). I do, however, have an idea what that sex scene would have included which is why I finished where I did. So that continuing on from this will be easy should I get inspired to write the porny companion/deleted scene story. No promises though.
> 
>  **Finally, a ‘don’t be a dumbass’ note that I know is probably self-evident but nevertheless makes me feel better write so you’re just going to have to roll your eyes and deal with it:** Needle play can be dangerous and should only be done if you are competent and experienced in it OR supervised and guided by someone who is. While this fic provides a description of ‘good practice’ it is still a fic and not a ‘how to’ guide. Don’t be a dumbass and try this at home without additional research, practice and seeking advice from experienced players. Okay, now you can roll your eyes at me.


End file.
